A Kingdom's Cost, a Historical Novel of Scotland (22 page)

"Oh, that he does." She sighed. "All
right. One extra piece. But that’s all."

He held out his hand and she gave him two
slices of meat on a dry, stale piece of bread. He held it out for Iain to take
one. Blowing on his, he chewed some of the stringy stuff off with his teeth. "Some
say Pembroke was in a hurry to leave," he mumbled around the meat.

"Nothing but trouble, all you lads. Eat
that first and mayhap there’s more for you." She dropped her voice. "Aye.
You hear true. My boy who works in the kitchens passes the news to me. Valence
came back after Glen Trool ready to knock heads he was that angry. Yelling
about King Hob and Clifford being a coward. Then he got word they've been
trumpeting." She bent over her brazier as she glanced around before she
continued. "King Robert agreed to a battle at Loudoun Hill for the tenth
day of May."

"You're sure of that?"

She nodded. "Aye, it's been all the
soldiery is talking about."

He slipped her a couple of groats. Anything
greater and they’d drag her in to find out where she’d gotten them. "Two
more for my brother Iain and me. Will was right. Worth the abuse." He
grinned at her scowl.

He held out the trencher for the meat and
walked on with a nod. If his people were going to risk their lives, they’d at
least know their lord’s face. This news--a battle, set in advance. Too much
like Methven and yet the king wouldn't have agreed, except it was to his
advantage. James had to return to him--and soon.

A whooping crowd of boys ran past chasing a
leather ball. It bounced into the paddock, making cattle scatter. The only
horses in it were a couple of rough garrons, a good hand smaller than the
rouncel he led, near the back, small light horses good for riding through moors.
A man shouted at the boys as he kicked the ball past the wooden barrier. The
dirt was ground into muck by the passing animals, and the ball landed in the
middle of a puddle with a sucking smack. The boys scattered around James,
darting under the horse's belly, to retrieve it. The animal tossed its head and
whickered but he patted its neck and soothed it with a word.

Time to test how well he would pass as a
horse trader.

"Here now, sir," he said to one
of the guards. "Where is the horse buyer hereabouts?"

Frowning, the man dropped a hand onto his sword,
as he looked James up and down. He spat. "Only one buying horses is our
stablemaster. Need ‘em for catching up with that King Hob of yours." He
jerked his chin towards the road that twisted its way up the brae. "You
can see if he'd be interested in your lot."

"Come on, Brother," James said to
Iain, "and let's up with us."

The muscles between James's shoulder blades
twitched as turned his back to the English men-at-arms. He fastened his eyes on
the red stone gate and forced himself to stroll towards it. The St. George's
cross of England and the lion of Pembroke flapped above the gatehouse. Ahead of
James, a man pushed a creaking two-wheel cart piled high with hay. On the
parapets, a man-at-arms marched on each of the walls and two stood at each side
of the gate.

"Looks to me like they're worried
about trouble," Iain said in a low voice at James's elbow.

He gave a sharp nod, eyes darting. One of
the guards stopped the cart, poking at the hay with a pike. James kept his face
blank as another held out a pike to stop him. "Where you think you're
going?"

"Guard down at the paddock said to
show these to the stablemaster." James jerked his head towards the horse
he led. "Looking to sell 'em."

The man used his pike to point. "Wait
there." He looked over his shoulder and shouted. "Find Horse Master
Edmund."

James stepped to the horse's side and
patted its withers. Iain looked at him over the horse's back, his forehead
beaded with sweat. James realized his own palms were wet and wiped them on the
horse's coarse, dark mane.

A low voice rumbled, "What you calling
me for. Think I have time to be running at your word?" The stocky man,
bald head dappled with splotches, gave the guard a scathing glance.

"Fellows with horses to show you, and
you know orders are no strangers in the bailey," the guard said.

"To show me are they?" He walked
out and turned the same look on James.

"Looking to sell them, sir, if I can
get a good price." James kept his voice low and even but his heart was
thumping.

"I'm no sir." The man caught
James's mount by the head and pulled open its mouth. He grunted and walked
around it and then did the same to Iain's. "Let's see." Before James
could speak, the old man had climbed into the saddle. He pulled the reins from
James hand and set at an amble down the bluff. When he got back, he gathered Iain's
reins and led the animal in a circle before he tossed them back.

"Not good for much," he said at
last, "but my lord Pembroke is in need of animals so I'll give you twenty
shillings each." He reached into the purse at his belt and pulled out
coins. "Good solid king's coin and not a one clipped."

James chewed his lip and pretended to think
about it. "I thought they were worth at least thirty each. They have a
good pace."

The man spit. "You thought wrong. Take
what I'm offering or his lordship may decide there's no reason to pay Scottish
thieves for their horses."

James heaved a sigh. "I thank you for
your kindness." He held out his hand for the coin. The man counted it out,
coin by coin, dropping it into his hand. He stared at the sword calluses on his
own palm, marks no reins would ever make.

"Horse trader, are you?" the man
said as the coins clinked.

"Am now." James felt the eyes of
the guards raking over him. He dropped the coins into his belt purse and handed
over the reins.

As he walked away the stable master said to
his back, "Might be if you have more of those horses, you should sell them
somewhere else."

"Devil take them," Iain muttered
under his breath. "I thought we were for the dungeon."

James wiped the sweat from his face. "I
still have a thing or two to learn. Should have had you take the money. Never
thought a thing about my hands, but now I know. Not enough to give us away, but
closer than I like."

James stopped to dicker for the garrons in
the paddock. It took half of the pittance the stable master had paid him. How
to get enough for all his men was nagging at him. These were light enough to go
through the moors where heavier mounts would sink in the muck. Any knight's destrier
sink faster than a boulder in the boggy moorland.

They led the garrons out of the village and
rode back towards the Forest.

"You're our best man with horses,"
James said pensively and Iain beamed at the praise. "We need more of these.
I have other things to do, so you'll take four more of the roundels to the
Lanark Fair." James frowned. "You'll need a hand so decide who you
want to help. Sell those and buy as many garrons as you can lay hands on."

"Ralf seems good with them and he's a
steady lad."

It took a second but James recalled one of
the younger of his men, a towhead who had yet to get his full growth. "I
need enough horses for all the men who'll stay with me."

"Who'll stay with you? Don't you want
all of them, my lord?"

"Want isn't have. It's a rough way to
live. I'll not keep any who want to go home. We'll see." He was sure some
would leave, a few at least. Living rough--always in the saddle-- never safe-- How
many would choose it with a warm fire under a roof not that far away?

"With a lord who leads us the way you
do, most will stay. Don't think they didn't see that you gave everything from
your own castle that could be carried to their families. They'll not forget it."

James grimaced. "And will they soon
forget that I beheaded three men?"

"And what else would you have done? Let
them hunt down every man who was in the kirk? Kill their families? Was there a
choice?" He spat. "Besides they were owed it for the lives they'd
taken and the women--if they didn't do the raping themselves, did they do what
a decent man would and put a stop to it?"

James shifted in his saddle and sighed. "I
didn't see that I had a choice. But I kept asking myself what my father would
have done, and, God save me, I don't know."

"What your father would have done was
not worry about it."

James laughed.

"You know what the men call it, don't
you?"

James looked at him in surprise. "I
didn't know it was called anything particular."

"They call it the Douglas Larder."
Iain grinned.

But James pictured the king’s face when he
told him about beheadings and the blood spilled in the church. The Douglas
Larder...

The garrons were smaller than the horses
they'd sold but fleet of foot nonetheless and they could cut across the
moorland so by the time light peeked through the branches of the forest the
next morning, they reached the camp.

Sym ran up, gabbling to tell of a camping
place he'd found a mile further into the forest. James ordered that they would
move the next day. Most of the men, it seemed, were doing well with riding and
practicing with their weapons. A couple of men of Ettrick Forest had come in to
join. Ettrick men were the finest hands with a bow in Scotland. James ran his
hands over their yew short bows and talked to the men. These had stood with
Wallace. Now they'd serve him.

One of the Douglasdale men walked towards James
and then stopped, then started again. He turned to leave so James said, "You
need something--Gawther, isn't it?"

The man flushed red. "No. I mean, I
do, my lord. But..." He gulped, his Adams apple bobbing. "I--I guess
I'm a coward, my lord. But I can't do this. I thought I could. I wanted to."
He colored even brighter and hurried to get his words out as though he feared
to lose his nerve again. "I won't betray you. Holy Mary, Mother of God, I
swear it. But my family needs me. I shouldn't have come. Please."

It was better to find out now who wasn't
fit for this. "Men." he yelled. "Gather round. I have a word to
say."

Gawther was staring at his feet, shuffling
and clinching his hands with nerves.

Once the men were in a circle, James waited
for them to quieten.

"You've all done well. Wat tells me
that. But Gawther says he wants to leave and there may be others who feel the
same way."

There was muttering and he held up a hand. "This
is a hard life. Living rough and going hungry and never knowing when you may
have to fight. When you may have to die. I'm not going to ask it of anyone who
can't do it."

Another wave of muttering and Sym said, "He
might give us away."

"Gawther."

The man looked up at him.

"Is it that you want to betray your
lord? Or your friends?"

"No, my lord. I swear it's not that. I'm
sorry for being a weakling." The man looked miserably at the others who
were grumbling angrily. "I didn't think I was. But I guess I am. I need to
work my plot of land. Take care of my family. That's what I'm good at."

"I forgive your leaving. You're still
my man." He raised his voice. "You all are. I need as many of you as
can do this. But if you can't, tell me now."

There was a scuffling of feet but no one
else said anything. He waited a second. Only one was better than he'd dared to
hope. "I'm sending Gawther home." He looked sternly in the man's
eyes. "Keep quiet about what you've heard or seen. I'll call on you and
expect you to come when I raise a levy. You understand that?"

"Thank you." Gawther looked at
the other men. "I won't betray you. I won't. I'll help any way I can. I
promise."

James patted his shoulder. "Go home,
then."

The man hurried to gather up his few belongings.
James sauntered over to squat next to the man. "When you're there, talk to
Will. See if he has anything you can do to help with gathering news for me. I'm
trusting you, so don't fail me."

"I won't."

He left a few minutes later and the men
seemed to watch James out of the corners of their eyes. He wondered if they
approved or not, but he was sure he'd made the best choice. His men couldn't
serve out of fear of him, not and serve him well.

He strolled amongst the men stopping to
talk to them. At one cook fire, three men offered him a share of a rabbit they
were roasting. He took a leg, tossing it from one hand to the other when it
scorched his fingers as they grinned. At another, a youngster asked the best
way to defend if he fought someone with a two-handed greatsword. James thought
he'd like this life and felt comfortable taking charge of the men of
Douglasdale--as it should be. It was what he was born to. What they expected of
him.

The next morning he had them move to the
new camp. Soon the jacks were being dug. James went over the training again
with Wat. They reviewed the stores and James realized they were short of
arrows, so he set men to fletching. He'd never suspected how much there was to
think of. But he couldn't think of anything more so he sent Iain off to the
Lanark Fair with some extra gold and two horses to sell. Then he took one of
the horses himself and one to ride.